


supplicant

by butitsthegameilike (badaltin)



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Begging, Human!Damen, Incubus!Laurent, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Power Dynamics, Rimming, Service Top!Damen, Smut, and damen is Whipped, laurent's got all the power here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 14:42:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17685422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badaltin/pseuds/butitsthegameilike
Summary: Damen is helpless to the groan that tears itself from his lungs. Bathed in the silvery film of moonlight, his world is diminished to the boundaries of this room. Damen, a crown prince in his prime, enslaved by his own hunger. Laurent, nearly a statue, but moving.“Prepare me,” Laurent tells him..(laurent is an incubus. damen is his prey.)





	supplicant

**Author's Note:**

  * For [exyking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/exyking/gifts).
  * Inspired by [what burns inside you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11243337) by [exyking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/exyking/pseuds/exyking). 



> this took.... over twelve months to complete. oops. 
> 
> dedicated to the entire discord server, because almost everyone has had a hand in helping me with this fic! it wouldn't have even gotten off the ground without you guys, so thank you! <3 
> 
> also thank you exy for inspiring me with your own incubus fic - you were so encouraging and i hope you like my take!

“Hello, Damianos.”

Damen jerks against the door at his back. It had been a tiresome day of trade negotiations, surely, but he did not think it long enough to warrant his mind playing tricks on him. There, standing before his open window is… _An angel_ , Damen might have guessed, if it weren’t for the leathery wings sprouting from the creature’s back and ashy talons at the end of its fingers and toes. Its skin is pale. So, so pale it reads like the porcelain a merchant vessel might bring into the harbor at Ios; Damen traces it up to where it disappears behind a gossamer robe not unlike what the palace slaves wear.

“What are you?” Damen asks, tongue heavy in his mouth.

The creature raises an eyebrow beneath cherubic golden hair. Its blue eyes flash gold for one heart-stopping moment as it takes one step forward into the darkened room. “Surely,” it says, voice like the bite of winter’s first frost. “I do not need to tell you.”

_Call out to your guards. Call out for Nikandros_ _._ “An incubus,” he says instead, memories coming back to him of the tales his nursemaids told.  

Damen is rewarded with a brief glimpse of pearlescent teeth. “Perhaps.” The way it steps across the room is distinctly feline, translucent fabric shimmering like falling water in the glow of the full moon. It presses itself close into Damen’s space and rests its elegant hand on his broad chest. It gazes up at Damen through its long lashes, and though the demon stands shorter than the Akielon prince, Damen still feels as if it is looking down on him. “Can you guess what I want?” A single claw rests at the hollow of Damen’s throat.

“You – feast off of pleasure.”

The demon purrs. “Is that a guess?”

Damen squeezes his eyes shut. “I assume you came for me.”

“Naturally.”

“So I am right?” Damen asks.

“Naturally you’d assume I came for you,” it says, and that gets Damen to look.

“Excuse me?”

“Your arrogance is excused.”

If the creature were but an over-daring courtier, Damen might have laughed. “Then why have you broken into my rooms?” he questions instead.

It flutters its eyelashes in faux-innocence. “To fuck.” The last consonant draws out, and Damen lingers too long on its lips. It notices.

Damen swallows. “They say incu- they say your kind kill their victims.”

The demon’s hand moves to grip the back of Damen’s neck, angling his head down. They are millimeters apart, breath mingling. “It is also said that we only fuck virgins,” it whispers, cool lips grazing warm with each syllable.

“You are very good,” Damen admits, “at making people forget themselves.”

The demon shrugs and retreats an inch. “I have no intention of killing you, Exalted.”

“This may yet be pretense.” Damen clings onto the sham that is their conversation, struggling to ground himself. He likes to think he is a man of discipline, but. Even he is but a man. “You haven’t even given me your name.”

“I am Laurent,” it breathes, and the evening shifts on the point of a dagger. “Consider it pragmatically,” Laurent says, though the Akielon prince is having trouble absorbing the words. “Your survival tonight guarantees me a second meal.”

Damen steadies himself. _One, two, three_. “I will be unharmed?”

“Not unless you want to be,” Laurent answers. It curls its coal-dusted fingers into the front of Damen’s chiton, and coaxes him away from the door with easy patience. “You will replenish my energy, and in return I shall pleasure you beyond the capabilities of these simpering toys you have strutting about the palace.”

What little resolve Damen had upon entering the room shatters like thin glass beneath Laurent’s immaculate feet.

“Yes,” Damen says, and for his troubles he’s pushed down onto the bed. He crawls backwards across the mattress as Laurent follows, alabaster knees digging into Damen’s sheets.

“I didn’t think I’d have trouble, bedding a man with your _appetite_.” The demon cocks its head, golden hair catching in the moonlight. “But do you realize how long I had to wait to find you alone?”

Damen swallows. “I don’t-”

He’s cut off by the firm press of clawed toes against his chest. “You take liberties,” the demon says, its silk garment sliding further up its exposed porcelain thigh. “I did not give you leave to speak.”

A single drop of sweat carves a lazy path between Damen’s shoulder blades. “I am crown prince.”

The talons sink in deeper, on the cusp of drawing blood, and it makes Damen’s arousal throb. “Did I stutter?” Laurent asks, eyes unyielding.

Damen says nothing.

“Good,” it purrs, retracting its fine-boned foot; Damen shivers at the loss. “Disrobe.”

Damen obeys. He unclasps the fibula at his shoulder and unties the belt at his waist; within seconds, he is bare. The demon’s eyes rove over his exposed skin, and Damen’s half-hard cock twitches at the attention.

Laurent falls forward, hands braced on either side of Damen’s head. Its collar drapes low. Through it, two pebbled nipples stand out against its rising chest. The demon is close enough for Damen to see its eyelashes dust its cheeks - he knows he’s lost.

The first press of its rosebud lips against Damen’s is chaste, a barely-there brush in stark contrast with the heady gaze Laurent levels him. When Laurent withdraws, Damen chases. Laurent presses him back into the pillows with a single finger against his sternum.

“Ah,” it says, and the distant threat of ice in its voice _shouldn’t be this arousing_. “You aren’t in charge here.”

“I thought you said you only take from the willing.”

Laurent hoods its eyes. “Are you unwilling?” It dips its head to the side, nibbling lightly at Damen’s earlobe. “Tell me to stop,” the demon breathes, lips dancing across olive skin. Shifting its weight to one hand, Laurent digs the heel of the other into the space beneath Damen’s navel, eliciting a gasp. “Tell me you don’t want it,” Laurent says, and grasps Damen’s cock at the base. The Akielon Prince keens.

“I- want-”

“ _Say it_.”

“I want to be inside you.” Laurent withdraws its hand, and Damen shudders. The cool air coming through his open balcony feels positively frigid against his cock, straining in the absence of the demon’s touch.

Laurent lowers itself down to its elbows, until their breaths mingle in the scant distance between them. “Then, _earn it_ ,” it says, and presses its mouth to Damen’s in invitation. Damen doesn’t hesitate; he lunges into the kiss, desperate for it like a man on the verge of death. He grabs at the back of the demon’s golden head and is rewarded with an almost imperceptible sigh. He licks into Laurent’s mouth, savoring the smooth glide of its lower lip, its pointed teeth, its tongue.

Heat pools at the base of Damen’s spine. He wrinkles his brow at the effort it takes to not thrust upwards in search of friction; Laurent’s lips twitch against his in a smirk. Small pinpricks of pain bloom across Damen’s lower lip and his eyes shoot open to see Laurent just barely digging its teeth into Damen’s flesh.

When Laurent pulls away, Damen stifles a groan but lets his hand drop. “Very good,” Laurent murmurs in approval.

“I want to touch you,” Damen gasps in the trembling space between them.

“Tell me where.” Cool as untouched marble.

“Your cock.”

“Mmm.” Laurent hums in assent, and halts around the sound as Damen closes his hand around its member. The demon shudders, sweet lips pouting in a silent _oh_ as Damen traces the slit with the tip of a sword-calloused finger. He sits up. With his other arm, Damen holds Laurent’s hip steady as he strokes from base to tip, a slow, twisting pleasure.

“Slower,” Laurent instructs, and upon acquiescence gifts Damen with a subtle whine.

Damen smooths his free hand up and down the demon’s spine, between the place its wings originate. He stares up with black diamond eyes. This nubile siren in his lap, currently rocking its hips into Damen’s fist, is the most delightful sin in which he has ever partaken. Laurent’s brows tug together, and if he didn’t know the true nature of this creature’s inclinations and practices, Damen might even compare him to Lykaios on her First Night.

He presses his open mouth to Laurent’s throat and suckles the skin there. The demon moans, Adam’s apple jumping.

Damen withdraws his hand from the demon’s cock and swipes the glisten of precum along one of Laurent’s nipples.

“May I,”

“You may.”

Damen pinches the flesh, watching in rapt fascination as the pebbled skin turns dark from his ministrations. He seals a wet kiss around it and pulls back to blow cool air across the dampness.

Laurent leaps in his lap like a startled horse, wings shifting as sandals on a polished floor. “This,” Laurent says, eyes closed, “you’ve had your fun. Enough.”

Damen swallows his protests as Laurent gets to its feet. It towers above Damen on the mattress; its blue predatory gleam returns with a vengeance. It turns around and drops back to its knees and elbows. Presenting.

Damen is helpless to the groan that tears itself from his lungs. Bathed in the silvery film of moonlight, his world is diminished to the boundaries of this room. Damen, a crown prince in his prime, enslaved by his own hunger. Laurent, nearly a statue, but moving.

“Prepare me,” Laurent tells him.

Damen whimpers, a pathetic thing. “Oil,” he croaks, shifting into a crouch.

“We don’t need it,” Laurent replies cryptically.

Damen reaches forward, but his skin hardly makes contact before Laurent’s leathery wing swats him back. He blinks.

“Do not forget your place, Damianos.” Laurent’s gaze burns into him over its shoulder. “All that you do, all that you _feel_ is because I allow it. Do not tread where permission has not granted you passage.”

A hard, ruthless wave of _want_ pulses through the Akielon prince, searing in his veins. After a moment of hard-fought control, Damen steels himself. “May I open you?”

Laurent’s smile is cruel and bloodless. “Beg.”

Damen doesn’t think he can; doesn’t know if he wants to.

“I think you want to,” Laurent continues, as if reading Damen’s mind. “I think you want me to make you beg for it.”

“I.” Damen’s mouth is cotton dry. He thinks back to the halls at Lentos, and wonders if any of his ancestors have ever begged in their ancient lives. “Please.”

“Please what?” Laurent raises its eyebrows

Damen is about to _die_. “Please let me stretch your hole.” He flushes darkly at the filthy language.

“Since you asked so nicely,” Laurent replies, head hanging below its shoulders. Damen tentatively reaches forward again, but his palms meet the smooth flesh of its backside without interruption. He has no idea what they will do without oil. Spreading the demon’s cheeks apart, Damen dips down and applies his mouth.

The reaction is immediate. Laurent buries its face in the sheets but isn’t quick enough to muffle the wanton moan it releases. Damen curls his tongue into a point and narrows his focus to the center, and the demon’s talons tear through the bedcloth.

Laurent tastes… almost _sweet_. “I produce my own slick,” the incubus says idly. Damen’s mouth waters. He returns to his task with a ferocity that has Laurent gasping like a harlot for coin. Damen flattens his tongue and swipes broadly – teasingly - until memory of its slick calls him home. He is driven wild by it, following the taste to its source and humming as it bursts candied-citrus across his senses.

Damen pulls back, the air thick with their panting and sticky arousal. He thumbs at Laurent’s hole. A tremor runs through Laurent. “Do it,” it says, and Damen breaches that tight ring of muscle up to the knuckle.

They groan in synch.

Damen wiggles his thumb inside Laurent for a moment. He draws it out, that glistening slick stringing from his thumb to its hole. Damen makes a wounded sound.

“ _More_ ,” Laurent demands. Damen doesn’t refuse. He presses one finger inside, and then another. Testing. He scissors his fingers, and Laurent’s wings shake like the boughs of a tree in a coastal summer storm.

“You’re so good,” Damen says, half-delirious.

“You won’t break me,” Laurent says, and keens as Damen adds a third finger.

“Won’t I,” Damen says, and curls his fingers. Something with an intensity like fury burns in Damen’s chest as he rubs relentlessly against that bundle of nerves, spurred on by the incubus’s sobs.

“ _Enough_.” It is ground out like masonry; Damen stops. He worries that he went too far, but when Laurent tips its head over its shoulder, the ire in its expression lacks conviction. “You.” A shudder ripples through its wings. “You certainly take your time.”

Damen chuckles. “I am not in the habit of disregarding preparation before mounting.” He draws out his fingers and sucks wine-dark bruises into the crease of Laurent’s thigh. “Even when bedding sex demons,” he adds against creamy skin.

Laurent scoffs. Damen blinks through a flurry of wings, and he is on his back once more. Laurent kneels imperiously above him, its bobbing red cock the only thing giving its countenance away. “Do not mock me.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Damen gasps.

Laurent stares down at him, calculating. It grasps the head of Damen’s cock, talons just shy of piercing flesh, and it rubs the head against its hole. Its eyelashes flutter. Damen digs his fingernails into his palms to quell any involuntary movement. Laurent lowers itself and the both of them moan unbridled when Damen pushes past that tight ring of muscle.

Damen doesn’t think – his arms shoot out and grasp at the demon’s hips, yanking it down until he is buried to the hilt.

“Fuck,” it says, and Damen’s ruined it, he’s broken the rules, and- “Do that again.” Laurent braces its hands on Damen’s chest and raises itself until just the tip is cradled in its hole. Damen slams the incubus back down, and it hiccups a delicious noise. The pressure around his cock is near blinding, white-hot sparks firing behind Damen’s eyes, and on the third pass his hips thrust up to seek out more friction.

Their pace devolves quickly. The Akielon Prince surges up, the incubus grinds down. Laurent’s fingers curl and draw dark ruby droplets of blood from Damen’s heaving chest, and they are driven wild with it. Their mouths meet in a sloppy kiss, breath and saliva mingling as neither quite possess the faculties to coordinate more than this.

Tension coils low in Damen’s gut; he huffs and his thrusts speed up, growing more desperate as he can feel the pleasure crest, his orgasm is just a heartbeat away –

\- and Laurent sits up and stops dead in its tracks, a sudden inhumane power forcing Damen’s runaway body to stillness. “Wait,” it orders, and Damen is crippled by the need to come. “Wait,” it says again, and there is cruelty in its steady and unforgiving voice.

Damen throws his head back and yells. The muscles in his thighs twitch but the weight of the demon does not give. Still encased within the hot inner walls of Laurent’s hole, his cock jerks, straining for _something_ that could push it over the edge. But Laurent’s eyes are glinting steel and its mouth wicked and Damen does not come.

Tears well up in Damen’s eyes at the denial. “Laurent,” he chokes out, heart hammering.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Laurent says, as if weighing the merits of one saddlecloth over another. Its cock is still flushed and hard, but its composure is cold as ice. “I don’t believe you have earned the right to completion, Damianos.”

Damen grabs fistfuls of his hair and keens. “ _What must I do_?”

Laurent’s grin splits its face in two. It leans forward in Damen’s lap and whispers in his ear, “whatever I do, _you mustn’t come_.” The demon rises on its knees, clenching around Damen’s length as it draws nearly all the way off. Damen clamps down on a howl and digs his fingers into his scalp. Laurent slides purposefully down, equally as tight, and the sensation is exquisite. He is so sensitive.

“Are you close?” Laurent asks.

“Yes.”

“Are you going to come?”

“N-no.”

Laurent’s fingers circle around the base of Damen’s cock and squeeze. “You wouldn’t lie to me now, would you?” All innocence.

Damen gasps, arms flopping uselessly to his side. “No.”

“Good,” Laurent purrs, and continues its torturously patient pace. It rhythmically clenches around Damen on every pass, and when the pleasure is at its breaking point, Laurent stops and waits as Damen thrashes his head in frustration. Tears are flowing freely down his olive cheeks and time melts into an unending blur of arousal and denial. He has never needed to come so badly in his life, and he has never been so in doubt of his freedom to do so.

It made the Prince’s mouth water.

But not even Laurent could hold out forever, incubus as it was. Whatever façade it bore to torment Damen was cracking and slipping; its cheeks were rosy red, its cock dark and glistening, its breathing uneven even as it tried to retain control.

“Damia- Damen.” It whimpers. “Touch me.”

Damen thumbs the head of Laurent’s cock; he strokes once, twice, and Laurent is coming in hot spurts across Damen’s chest. Damen cannot tear his eyes away from the demon’s face, a contorted image of exquisite ecstasy. Laurent’s inner walls clench around him in a perfect vice and the last of Damen’s control fractures as he is dragged into his own blinding orgasm.

It takes a moment for Damen to come back down to earth. His ears ring with a dry static as sensation returns to him with more languor than he’d felt even after his night with the Isthiman gladiator.

And miraculous, diabolical Laurent sits in his lap, waiting. Its eyes gleam a lupine-gold, seeming to crackle with power. It licks its lips.

Oh no.

“I do not recall,” Laurent says, “instructing you to come.”

“Oh,” Damen says, dumbly. Now that his lust has been sated, he is all too aware of the dagger-like talons Laurent rests on either side of Damen’s ribcage. Something like fear trickles down his spine.

“Oh.”

Damen’s mouth is full of sand; he tries to form words, but cannot give them voice.

Laurent draws forward, body shifting so Damen’s soft cock slides free of the demon. Laurent skims a claw over Damen’s jugular. Their faces are but a hairsbreadth apart.

“I suppose I have no other option but to punish you. Isn’t that right, Damianos?”

Damen swallows.

Laurent bears its teeth – a predator, finally emerging from the brush. It pounces.

**Author's Note:**

> i have never written porn before so. uh. hope it went well? please leave your thoughts in the comments! i'd love to do more so your feedback is wonderful!
> 
> thanks for reading <3


End file.
